Friday, September 26, 2008

September Song

Suddenly sixty-five is looming large and you are unprepared.

In the back of your mind you’ve seen it coming for a while now.  Quietly but surely.  Like a dark force needing to be reckoned with… sometime.  Sometime may be arriving sooner rather than later. But you keep trying to ignore it.  Pretending it isn’t really happening.  But change is a’comin.


Your hairdresser and doctor are your new best friends.  Your doctor has been coaching you to resist the change. Exercise, vitamins, anti-oxidants, lots of fiber and ibuprofen.  Trips to the beauty solon are more frequent and frantic.  But the cold hard fact is that you have tipped into that last (gasp!) third of your life.


You spend time resisting, trying very hard to believe that your joints are stiff and sore when you rise up from the floor because you were over active yesterday.  Yeah, right.


You don’t care what the current pop hit tune is, what Brittany is up to, or Paris for that matter.  You haven’t seen a Hollywood movie in months. But the funny thing is; you are happy at home… moving slowly.  You might watch the debate tonight if you aren’t in bed first.


And you thought middle age wasn’t until you turned sixty, right?  Think again, sixty is when you stop pulling out the grey hairs because you need all that hair.   Sixty is not the new forty.  It means really weird hair, really deep wrinkles, rickety joints, pains in the ass and unplanned poops in the night.  BUT you are still alive, right?  And, you can still pretend, right?


I say, go for it.


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